


Dust off the Clouds

by djchika



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:19:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djchika/pseuds/djchika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Hummel had lived his life in solitude, surrounded by spells and potions and magic. He had lived his life secure with the knowledge that while he was alone, he was safe. Meeting Blaine Anderson changed all that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust off the Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> For the Klaine Reverse Bang 2013

Light barely filtered through from the cave’s entrance, casting elongated shadows across the walls as Kurt made his way down the sloping path.

As a child he could remember the way his heart would hammer in his chest as he descended into the darkness, but years of making the trek had weaned him out of that fear. There was nothing but familiarity now as the light from the entrance thinned further until all he could see was black.

“38, 39, 40, 50, 51...” Kurt quietly counted the steps stopping when he reached his destination.

He placed his hands on the smooth stone he knew was right in front of him, memory taking over as he traced the patterns and made the rocks shift beneath his palm revealing a small opening.

Scowling, he carefully maneuvered himself so that his clothes wouldn’t brush against the walls. He had left his cloak at the cave entrance but he wasn’t going to take any chances with the new tunic he was wearing.

Kurt squeezed through the hole and into the hidden cavern where a soft glow filled the space, bathing him in warmth that was a stark contrast to the damp coldness seeping through the rocks.

“Hi mom,” he whispered.

Around him the writing on the walls pulsed a bright blue, his mother’s magic still strong within them. The ache in his chest from missing his mother was secondary to the connection he felt whenever he was there.

The cave was his own space, the place he escaped to when he wanted to be alone. Which sounded ridiculous considering most people went out of their way to avoid him.

“Dad thinks I’ve started slipping fo-ti in his food,” he said conversationally as he carefully took off the necklace hidden under his robes. Hanging from the chain was a pendant holding a blue stone with swirls of green, the blue as alive with magic as the writing on the walls.

“He doesn’t know I’ve been doing it ever since he had an attack last year,” Kurt said as he walked over to a wall where a mantle had been carved into the rock. In the middle was a small indentation, no bigger than a robin’s egg. “You’d think he’d be more open to non-traditional remedies considering both his son and his wife are Healers.”

He gently removed the gem from the pendant and set it on the notch. His fingers glossed over the smooth facets, reminding him of the way they had once been rough to the touch until years of use had sanded them out. That it had once been his mother’s only served to strengthen the bond he had with the artifact.

Slowly the writings on the wall pulsed brighter, its light seeming to be drawn out of them and into the pendant.

Kurt smiled, his body flooding with a reassuring warmth as the magic in the stone grew brighter and brighter. He had his own magic, powers he could draw from within himself, but having his mother’s magic to guide him always helped.

“Don’t worry, I’ll still make him eat them,” Kurt said once the light settled into a steady glow. He picked up the stone and carefully put it back in its pendant before slipping the necklace on. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes made them almost as bright as the gem. “Whenever he tells me I got all my good qualities from you, I think he forgets how stubborn you were.”

\----------

War. That was where it had all begun. War had erupted amongst the gods and everyone in the earthly realm had become pawns in the struggle.

Elizabeth Hummel was no ordinary witch. Her capacity for love and kindness had bled into her magic, allowing her to help and heal the people of their kingdom as everywhere else death had claimed men and women and children.

It was this reason that angered the gods. They did not take well to having a mortal meddle in their affairs no matter how much magic had been bestowed upon her.

At the end of the war, when the gods had exhausted themselves fighting and had gone back to pettier pursuits, a prophecy had come forth declaring that she would be the last of the healers. With her the lineage would die.

But Elizabeth had already borne a child, a small helpless thing whose life light had started to wane even before he had turned a day. The town’s elders had taken one look at him and declared him lost to death.

No one challenged the gods. Not the elders, not the ones before them, but Elizabeth Hummel had taken her son and poured herself into him, defying the prophecy. She knew the consequences. Knew that she would die before her time, but it was the only way.

\----------

The blades of grass tickled against Blaine’s neck but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He had stumbled upon the small field by accident and without second thought he had allowed himself to fall into a bed of red and yellow tulips.

He stared up at the clear skies and smiled as a gentle breeze blew around him, making the leaves and the flowers in the field dance in the wind. Beside him his staff had fallen and caught on a tulip making the red gem on the end catch in the sunlight, adding a glitter of light that made the butterflies flying around sparkle.

It reminded him of summers spent at his grandfather’s village. Days when he and Cooper had gone exploring and getting to know their neighbors, conducting magic shows that didn’t showcase much skill in magic but was still a huge hit because Cooper insisted that using his powers on their audience wasn't really cheating. They had the Magic of Charm and it was a magic show after all.

Blaine rolled his eyes at the memory, but the smile stayed on his face. Regardless of the headache his brother had caused, the summers spent with him were ones that Blaine treasured. Especially now that Cooper was planning on moving away.

The idea of being alone at home saddened Blaine, but he couldn’t really fault Cooper for wanting to get away. Their village was small and often times suffocating with its penchant for holding on to history. Still it was home and Blaine had no desire to leave. Not yet.

Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine saw a flash of color against the green of the trees making him sit up curiously. Across the field, a pair of startled blue-green eyes met his and Blaine felt his heart thump one solid beat, his stomach feeling like all the butterflies had flown in one by one.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the other boy said, not bothering to see Blaine’s reaction before turning his back on him.

Blaine scrambled to his feet, brushing off the blades of grass that stuck to his pants before picking up his staff. He knew everyone in his village, had been subjected to his father’s business parties and insistence that he and Cooper would be best served with knowing all his connections, but he had never seen this boy before.

He wondered how he could make sure he would see him again.

Feeling like he was approaching a deer that could take flight at any moment, Blaine slowly moved closer to the boy. The focused way in which he was picking the berries from the bushes told Blaine he was intent on ignoring him.

Keeping a respectful distance, Blaine stopped a few feet away. “I didn’t mean to trespass.”

“You’re not. You’re just not supposed to be here.”

“Why not?” he asked, a light teasing note to his voice. “I thought you said I wasn’t trespassing.”

Still refusing to look at him, the boy continued with picking his berries. “If you don’t know then I’m not going to tell you.”

Blaine wasn’t as liberal with using his Charm as his brother, but he desperately wanted the boy to stay. He licked his lips and wiped his palms against his pants before taking a deep breath and harnessing the magic that was constantly thrumming just beneath the surface.

He could tell his tattoos were glowing based on the tell tale warmth on his face.

“My name’s Blaine.”

The magic danced up his spine, spilling out of him and gliding effortlessly towards the boy.

_Turn around, turn around, turn around._

It wouldn’t be enough to put him under a spell, but it would be enough to at least give Blaine a chance to make an impression. He only needed to wait a second before the boy dropped the last of the berries into the basket and turned to face Blaine.

The look on his face told Blaine he knew exactly what he was doing and that Blaine’s magic hadn’t affect him at all.

“Kurt. Kurt Hummel.”

He smirked, as if daring Blaine to stop him again. When Blaine didn’t he picked up the basket and disappeared into the trees.

\----------

Blaine had heard the surname Hummel frequently while he was growing up. The death of Elizabeth Hummel was a legend, a cautionary tale. A story told to all children whose parents wanted to scare them into submission.

The stories changed with each telling. One swore that death himself had chosen her as his bride. Another made her out as a demi-god that had angered the other gods for existing. The story most told was how she was evil and had sacrificed village children to keep her own alive.

He had heard a version of the story from his mother, had heard a different story from Cooper. Blaine had even heard a version from the gardener once saying that his father had fought side by side with the Elizabeth’s husband in the war. But when he asked his father, he had scowled at Blaine and muttered about old wives’ tales. There were few things that Blaine’s father reserved his patience for and gossip wasn’t one of them.

Blaine had heard every story there was of Elizabeth Hummel, but only once had he heard of her son.

“If I told you a secret, would you swear as my best gay bro you’ll never tell anyone?” Sam had asked him a few months ago when they were on a stake out, trying to catch a villain in action.

That was how Sam had put it, in truth they had accidentally set fire to Sam’s father’s tool shed and had been punished by making them spend the night at the pasture to make sure none of the sheep got out their pens.

Blaine knew it was silly to still be pretending at their age, but it was fun and Sam never made him feel like he was ridiculous for enjoying their crazy crusades. Although at some point they had both agreed the costumes were a little too much.

“We don’t break promises, Sam,” he had replied, seriously. “It’s part of the Superhero code.”

Sam looked around before whispering, “We brought Stacey to a healer last week.”

“A healer?” Blaine asked confused, “like the medicine woman Dr. Pillsbury?”

He shook his head shuffling closer to Blaine. “No, dude, a _magical_ healer and don’t tell me they don’t exist because you know at least one does.”

“How is she?”

“Stacey?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes at the concerned look on Blaine’s face. “She’s fine. You saw her yesterday it was like nothing happened but she had been feeling sick for _months_. He just did his thing and a few days later she’s as noisy as ever.”

“Was it scary?”

“No, that’s just it. Stacey liked him immediately and she doesn’t warm up to people easily. He looked our age, but a little less shiny around the edges.”

“You’re spending too much time with Brit, you’re starting to talk like her.”

Blaine had been curious at the time, but didn’t feel like it was fair to talk about people he didn’t know. The Hummels had long fallen off their radar and while there were still whispers here and there, it had meant little to Blaine until now.

Kurt Hummel.

Lying in bed that night, Blaine thought about the boy he had seen. Sam was right. He did look their age but there was nothing dull about Kurt. In fact, Blaine could almost remember him glowing slightly, the sun seeming to reflect of him, casting the same glittering light that his stone had.

He wondered if he could slip out in the afternoon and try to see if Kurt would be there. The field was too far from the village, too near the forests but Blaine didn’t care.

\----------

It took a whole week of heading to the field and waiting until Blaine’s luck finally turned. Hidden in his bed of tulips, he didn’t see Kurt arrive. Instead he heard the sound of boots crunching over twigs and then a high, annoyed voice calling out to him.

”Are you touched or something?”

He stood up and shrugged, “No, I like this field. It’s really pretty.”

“It’s the red and the yellow of the tulips,” Kurt said, his voice travelling easily to Blaine. “They’re a nice contrast to all the green.”

Blaine couldn’t quite contain the smile on his face. Disappointment had started to settle at the idea that he might never see Kurt again. He had played with the idea of simply visiting their cottage but he had never been to the forest and hadn’t been looking forward to making the trip alone.

Although he supposed he could have asked Sam to go with him, but he hadn’t really wanted to have his first real conversation with Kurt to happen under his best friends not too subtle presence.

Blaine tucked his staff in his belt before walking towards Kurt. He didn’t want to give him any reason not to trust Blaine and he had already made the mistake of trying to Charm him once. He tried not to think too much of that, tried not to think too much about what he was going to say, or what Kurt would say or what he would say to what Kurt would say.

Maybe it would help if he actually pulled himself together.

“What are you doing?”

“Fishing,” Kurt said fixing an amused look at Blaine

Okay, Blaine couldn’t really blame him for the sarcasm. It wasn’t the smartest question to ask. He looked at the bush and then over at the basket Kurt was holding. “I meant what are you picking? I’ve never seen berries like those before.”

“That’s because they only grow in this field. You see how they only grow inside the bushes and not outside them? That’s so that the animals can’t get in and eat them.”

“Do you know a lot about plants?”

“You could say that,” Kurt replied with a wry smile.

Encouraged by the fact that at least he wasn’t running away this time, Blaine reached out for to grab some of the berries.  “Here, let me help.”

“Don’t!”

Letting go of the basket in his other hand, Kurt quickly wrapped his fingers around Blaine’s wrist to stop him, pulling him away from the bushes.

Blaine inhaled sharply, feeling the warmth of Kurt’s hand against his skin, long fingers resting on his pulse. He wondered if Kurt could feel the way his heartbeat skittered the moment Kurt touched him. There was no magic between them, not the kind that they had grown up with, but Blaine could still feel the same electricity dancing up his spine. It wasn’t his Charm, but a different sort of heat that made him feel like his tattoos were glowing as bright as the sun.

He looked up expecting to see Kurt’s half-annoyed, half-amused look but sharp realization hit him at the concern on Kurt’s face as he examined Blaine’s hand.

“They’re poisonous,” Blaine said sheepishly, “that’s what you were trying to tell me.”

Kurt let go of his hand apparently satisfied that Blaine wasn’t going to die any time soon. He looked up, staring right at Blaine, and he could sense a question forming in Kurt’s eyes. A curiosity that bloomed for a split-second before it was quickly walled shut and replaced with a guarded expression.

“Yes,” Kurt said, walking back towards the bushes and resuming his picking. “You won’t die just from touching them, but their poison seeps through and will burn your skin.”

Blaine walked over and looked down where Kurt was holding the berries with his bare hands.

Kurt felt him staring and shrugged, “The berries have stopped affecting me a long time ago.”

\----------

Her husband was a blacksmith, with no magical qualities whatsoever, but between them they had love.

Kurt clung to that, in the dark, quiet of his childhood, when all he knew was the sound of birds in the day and the crickets at night, he would remember his mother’s songs in their sound and his heart would ache in a desperate desire for her to wrap her arms around him, stroke his hair and assure him that everything would be alright.

On the day that Elizabeth Hummel died, not a creature in the forest made a sound.

\----------

“You’re not trying to get me to eat the crazy crap you grow are you?” Burt asked the moment he saw what Kurt was placing on the table.

The salad had been freshly picked from the garden and they both knew it. He should be glad that Kurt had given in and baked a chicken dish for dinner as well. Otherwise his father would have had to make do.

“Yes, I am,” Kurt said refusing to rise to the bait. “You need it.”

“I’m your parent. Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be telling you to eat your vegetables?”

“Maybe it’s because I actually eat my vegetables and you don’t,” Kurt said pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Burt grumbled. He poked at the greens and sighed before digging in.

Beside him, Kurt nibbled on a carrot stick, remembering the afternoon’s events. He couldn’t stop thinking about the boy in the field. A part of him had wanted to talk to Blaine, had wanted to ask about the boy who was a complete stranger but was oddly familiar to him. He had wanted to ask about the magic that he had tried to work on Kurt but had failed. Wanted to ask if he was trying the same magic that afternoon and why it had felt different.

But a bigger part of Kurt had wanted to run. Had wanted to hide in the same way he’d known all his life. His mother had tried to tell him there was no need for it, not when he was alone or with his father, but Kurt had seen how the villagers had treated her and he had no desire to know them after that.

And Blaine was definitely part of the village. He was marked with the same tattoos running up his neck and carried the same staff that the men of the village were given once they were of age.

So he had left that afternoon without looking back, even when Blaine had said he’d see him again next week.

He wondered why he hadn’t said that he wasn’t planning on coming to the field since they were the last berries of the season.

“You’re quiet,” his dad said after a few minutes of just the sound of them eating. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Kurt replied too quickly causing Burt to give him a look. “Fine, there’s this boy who keeps showing up at the berry field. I don’t like it.”

“What’s the problem?” Burt asked. “He giving you a hard time?”

“No,” Kurt said with a shrug. “He’s just there.”

“What does he do that you don’t like?”

Kurt thought about Blaine, wondered exactly what he did do that seemed to raise his hackles, but aside from where he came from he couldn’t think of anything. Maybe because there really was nothing, he was just a nice boy who was bored and wandered too far from home.

“Nothing,” he admitted. “He talks.”

Burt snorted, placing his fork down to stare at him. “You talk back?”

“Sometimes,” he said focusing on his plate instead of his dad.

“It would be good for you to make friends, Kurt.”

Kurt nodded, trying to make it obvious that he didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet. Not when he didn’t know what it was about Blaine that drew Kurt to him. He had to know what the situation was before he leapt into things. He had learned that lesson the hard way.

Taking the hint, Burt nodded and placed his hand on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt looked up from his plate to look at his dad. “Just be careful and watch your back okay?”

“I know, dad,” Kurt said smiling wryly. “Believe me, I know.”

\----------

Kurt believed in facts, took solace in knowledge and numbers and measurements, found order in exact recipes and spells.

He knew himself, knew the limits and stretches his powers held. He knew exactly what it would do to him if he pushed himself too far, if he kept running on empty for too long.

He knew his spells, knew the exact mix of magic and nature necessary to achieve his desired results.

He knew his recipes, knew that if he mixed half a teaspoon of powdered Belladonna into his mug of warm milk, he would sleep easy through the night. Knew that if he used one teaspoon and he would be wake up with a headache.

He knew which plants grew in the summer, which bloomed in the spring and which he could only find in winter.

Facts surrounded Kurt, cocooned him in their warmth. Magic transformed, people came and went, but facts never did.

\----------

The following week, Kurt found himself walking slowly down the stony path, bracketed by huge elm trees that led to the field. He hadn’t planned on it, had repeated the risks again and again in his head.

It was stupid what he was doing, there was no assurance that he wouldn’t walk into the field and straight into danger. His mother had rarely been targeted when she was alive. She had been shunned for her trespasses to the gods but the people had at least remembered the good she had done for them during the war. It was a small consolation but they had lived quietly because of it.

Anger coursed through him for his mother but it quickly dissipated with each forced breath. There was no use holding on to the past. There were many lessons he had learned through the years, but holding onto anger was not one of them. No good came out of it. Nothing but an exhausted defeat and that wasn’t the kind of strength his mom and dad had shown him, they had raised him in a home full of love and compassion, not anger and resentment.

It was that thought that allowed him to keep walking towards the field, towards Blaine who he knew nothing about but had to admit intrigued him, made him curious about the boy that didn’t fear the Hummel name and who seemed to be equally as curious about Kurt as Kurt was with him.

That didn’t stop him from trying to give Blaine a hard time.

“You’re either incredibly stupid or – no, I think incredibly stupid sums it up pretty well,” was the greeting Kurt gave when him when he saw Blaine already waiting.

A genuine look of joy and surprise graced Blaine's eyes, sparking a light from deep within him. The way he was looking at Kurt made him slow down his steps, wary of just how easily Blaine was able to push all that emotion to the surface.

Needing to look anywhere but directly at him, Kurt took stock of his surroundings and realized that Blaine was sitting on a grey and red checkered makeshift picnic blanket that looked like it had come directly off his bed. Next to him was a picnic basket and a bunch of flowers that had obviously been recently picked.

“Didn’t your mom tell you it’s rude to call people names?” Blaine teased, directing Kurt’s attention back to him.

Kurt raised his eyebrow, waiting for Blaine to realize what he said. The moment it clicked in his head, Blaine blushed looking down before giving Kurt a small embarrassed smile.

“I - I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

“My father wouldn’t have any problems calling you stupid to your face,” Kurt said, saving him. “He says I got my mouth from him.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to meet your father yet then,” Blaine said when Kurt finally sat down on the blanket.

“Yet?”

“I’m an optimist,” He grinned, a wide too earnest smile that Kurt couldn’t help but return even while he shook his head in disbelief.

He was comfortable, Kurt realized. That’s what had felt odd about their meeting. He felt comfortable around Blaine. There was no danger from him, his presence didn’t raise any alarms, didn’t set his internal senses spinning. Kurt wondered how badly he must be screwed up to be suspicious of feeling safe with someone who wasn’t his dad.

“These are for you,” Blaine said, seeming to sense that he was losing Kurt. He offered Kurt the flowers which he had assumed were the red and yellow tulips that could be found in the field.

The gesture earned him another smile. Carefully Kurt took the flowers, admiring their beauty. They were the same striking red and yellow but instead of tulips Blaine had brought him a bouquet of roses.

Kurt looked questioningly at Blaine who simply said, “My mother likes to keep a garden.”

Laughing, Kurt took a long piece of cloth he usually kept for emergency wounds from his pocket. “Thank you for my stolen flowers,” he said as he carefully wound the cloth around the stems.

“Technically those weren’t stolen,” Blaine said as he took the picnic basket and laid out items on the blanket one by one. Kurt was amused to see that not only were there actual cutlery, Blaine had also brought champagne flutes. “I earned those roses. She forced me teach vocal lessons to her friend’s daughter, Sugar, and she’s sadly tone deaf.”

“I’m sorry to hear you went through such a hardship.” Kurt deadpanned. He leaned over and took the bottle nestled in the basket, reading the label before going through the motions of popping it open. It was sparkling cider which seemed fitting somehow.

“I survived and who knows,” Blaine added with a happy smile, “I might make a singer out of her yet.”

The smile tugged at Kurt’s heart drawing another laugh from him. “You are an optimist after all.”

“Exactly,” Blaine said, putting away the basket and reaching for the biggest of the food boxes. “Okay, so now this however was stolen straight from the kitchen.”

Waiting until Kurt was done pouring the cider, Blaine opened the box he was holding with a flourish.

“Cheesecake?”

\----------

Blaine was a simple boy. He didn’t have the ambition for power that his father had or his mother's desire for glamour. Neither did he have the need to be in the spotlight that Cooper desperately wanted. Blaine was a simple boy who wanted simple things, a need to help people, to make art and to find love he could believe in.

“I heard you’ve been hanging out with the Hummel boy,” his father mentioned during dinner weeks later.

Blaine almost choked on his salad which was impressive considering he had meticulously cut them to bite sized pieces. Beside them his mother was looking at him in shocked disapproval.

He swallowed and took a sip of water before asking, “Excuse me?”

“His dad told me you’ve met,” his father said, as if it was normal dinner conversation.

Blaine was glad he wasn’t eating anything or else he definitely would have choked. “You know Burt?”

“We served in the war together.”

His eyebrows flew up at the new piece of information. So their gardener hadn’t been lying. At least he hadn’t been lying about that. Blaine knew for sure he had lied about Elizabeth Hummel being a fallen angel.

He remembered the way that Kurt had laughed at that particular version of events, saying that would make him the “Spawn of Satan”. He had laughed all bright eyes and a smile so wide it made Blaine's chest hurt with how little he was able to see that side of Kurt.

“You remember him, Mary?” his father asked still carrying on with the conversation as if his son and wife weren’t about to pass out in shock. “I told you about him. He was the guy assigned with me at Fort Dalton in Westerville.“

His mother looked confused for a second before recognition dawned on her face. “He was Elizabeth's husband?”

“Yeah, I thought I told you this.”

“You didn’t,” his mother replied looking embarrassed, Blaine wondered if she was remembering all the stories she had repeated about Elizabeth Hummel. He found himself slightly righteously pleased at the idea while at the same time feeling guilty about thinking that about his own mother.

“I owe him a lot,” Mary said. She placed her hand on his father’s and gripped it tight. “You wouldn’t have come home to me if it wasn’t for him.”

“I told you I’d die trying. Good thing Burt was there so I didn’t actually have to die.”

She smiled warmly at his father, and for a second Blaine could almost imagine themselves young and newly in love. Like the wedding pictures they still kept at their bedside. There was a spark in his mother’s eyes that was mirrored in his father’s. Steady and secure that had held up in the test of time.

His parents may not have been perfect, they may not have had the same wants as Blaine did, but they had love between them.

It was at that moment that Blaine realized he would do anything to have Kurt look at him that way.

\----------

Like the magic that was continuously thrumming in their veins, Kurt felt the air around him and Blaine shift and change as time progressed.

He hadn’t expected to see more of Blaine aside from their weekly meeting in the field, but slowly Kurt found himself with a willing companion as he went about his daily tasks. Blaine had been surprised at how many of their village still came to Kurt hoping for a cure that the medicine woman was unable to provide.

For the most part, Kurt did what he could do to help, but there were people whose illnesses were beyond what powers he possessed.

Those were the worst days for Kurt. Helplessness and frustration that seeped through him, curling and unfurling until his limbs feel heavy with them. It took more than he was willing to admit to keep moving, to put one foot in front of the other and move on to the next person.

Often he wondered how many of them he would actually be able to help. How many of them he would need to look in the eye and say that he was sorry, but there was nothing he could do and they, their child, their parent, their brother or sister was going to die.

It was one of those rare moments when his brain would shut down and he would forget everything he had made himself learn over time, because none of his knowledge, none of his carefully stored facts made a difference in front of grief.

And on those days Kurt did what he tried his whole life to stop doing - he ran.

“Kurt!” he heard Blaine call out to him.

Kurt didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He hadn’t thought about anything other than getting out the moment the young couple left, tears still streaming down the mother’s face as she clutched the small weak infant to her breast.  

His heart said run and he had obeyed without question.

He could hear Blaine following as he quickly navigated through the forest, dodging branches and blindly making twists and turns. He knew the forest, knew exactly where he was heading but even he had to stop and reorient himself a couple of times before he realized he was going the wrong way.

It was beginning to get dark and the forest did not take kindly to those who weren’t familiar with its secrets. It was that thought that made him stop and wait for Blaine to catch up. If Blaine got lost in the woods at night, Kurt wasn’t sure if he would survive and he didn’t need that on his conscience as well.

“I just needed a moment,” Kurt told Blaine when he reached the tree he was leaning against. He was amazed to find that although Blaine was sweating profusely, he didn’t seem to have difficulty following Kurt. “Dad knows to tell the next ones I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not here to get you to come back,” Blaine said, stepping closer to him. “Are you okay?”

The concern etched across his face, was still new to Kurt. He wasn’t used to someone who wasn’t his father caring about him. There were patients who would take the effort to be nice but most could still remember the stigma associated with Elizabeth Hummel and none had done more than send a token of appreciation here and there.

For reasons Kurt still didn’t understand, Blaine did. Blaine hadn’t cared when they met, hadn’t cared when he had been exposed to everything that Kurt did with his magic. If anything he had been proud. Blaine had been _proud_ that Kurt was helping so many people and maybe that was why the latest patient had hurt more. There was no glory in telling a mother she would need to watch her son die.

Kurt laughed, a wet broken sound that made Blaine reach out and take his hand. “No, Blaine, I’m not okay.”

“I can tell your dad that you’re not feeling well,” Blaine offered, gently squeezing Kurt’s hand. “He can ask them to come back tomorrow.”

Almost instinctively Kurt leaned into Blaine and Blaine’s arms wrapped around him, his fingers stroking against his back in a soothing gesture.

He wanted to say yes, wanted to tell them all to leave him alone, wrap himself in selfishness and pretend that he had lost all his powers and that there nothing he could do to help.

It was a desperate wish that wormed its way into his heart on the days where he felt the most useless, when he most wondered if his mother had made the right decision in saving him instead of saving herself.  It was a stupid, selfish wish that planted itself in Kurt’s heart and grew like a garden untended.

And yet if he was given the opportunity he doubted that he would make the wish. He was selfish but he wasn’t heartless. He had been raised in a home of love and compassion and it was the same love and compassion that he held on to during the darkest of his days.

Kurt took a slow, shuddering breath, taking comfort in the steady beat of Blaine’s heart. His hands had settled against Kurt’s nape, Blaine’s thumb rubbing soothing circles, settling some of his misery and replacing it with a calmness that spread throughout his body.

“We should go back.”

Blaine looked at him as if asking if he was sure and Kurt gave a resolute nod, his smile tight but determined.

Kurt held out his hand to Blaine who took it with a surprised but pleased smile.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

\----------

“Where are we going?” Blaine asked, next to him. He sounded like was trying to draw Kurt into conversation more than being actually curious.

Kurt couldn’t blame him. With every step they took the knot of tension on Kurt’s shoulder grew, causing him to hold Blaine’s hand a little tighter.

“It’s where I was heading the night you ran after me,” he explained, turning to Blaine to give him a smile. “It’s where I go when I need to recharge or just be alone.”

Blaine nodded. “What did I do to earn this special tour?” he joked, but Kurt could tell by look in his eyes how important it was to Blaine that Kurt trusted him with his secrets.

“Just you being you,” Kurt said almost shyly, “for you being there.”

“Always,” Blaine replied, squeezing his hand and smiling at Kurt. The promise of the statement hung in the air and Kurt was helpless to fight the pull of Blaine’s words.

It sounded impossible. The idea of always couldn’t be measured like his ingredients, couldn’t be counted like the number of times a potion needed to be stirred. Always was a concept, not a fact. But when it came to Blaine, Kurt found that he didn’t care.

Not when Blaine could look at him and make Kurt believe that always was both a promise and a fact.

The forest was quiet around them when they reached the cave entrance. “Can you harness light on that?”

Blaine nodded, easily making the gem on his staff glow a bright red. Kurt took out his own stone from underneath his clothes and coursed his magic towards it.

“It’s going to be dark but the stones should help,” he said before taking Blaine’s hand and leading him into the cave.

Kurt didn’t speak, didn’t let go of Blaine’s hand until they reached the entrance to the hidden room.

“Give me your other hand.”

Guiding Blaine’s hand, Kurt traced the patterns he knew by heart into the wall until the rocks moved to reveal the opening.

He slid through the entrance and waited until Blaine was able to follow before walking into the middle of the room with Blaine. Leaning into him, Kurt nestled into Blaine’s arms, watching as the writing on the walls pulsed a bright blue bathing them both in warmth.

“This is where I talk to my mom.”

\----------

It was days later, when Kurt and Blaine lay with limbs tangled on the comforter they used as a makeshift picnic blanket that another shift occurred.

“I love you,” fell out of Blaine’s lips unbidden, a soft murmur against Kurt’s temple unassuming and full of promise.

Kurt’s heart stuttered in his chest, a quiet tremor in the sureness that had been his life prior to meeting Blaine. His instinct to for flight barely lasted a second before he was raising himself up and staring into the browns and golds of Blaine’s eyes.

Blaine’s gaze didn’t waver. Simple, sweet, matter of fact. A statement empty of doubt. I love you said in a way that made Kurt’s insides settle, anchored him and made him feel weightless all at the same time.

It was a solid truth that made everything in him felt tossed into the air, Kurt’s all too fearful heart along with it. All he had to do was trust that when it fell, Blaine would be right there just as he promised.

“I love you too.”                                                                           

 


End file.
